A Night Out
by Master Huytin
Summary: A short fanfic to celebrate the birthday of AI Football GGO. The Barefoot Team go out for a night, and do what they do.


**Recently, on the 2** **nd** **of June 2018, it was the 8** **th** **birthday of AI Football GGO. Both I and Mytherina decided to do specials. Unfortunately, unlike Mytherina, who released hers in the morning of the following day, I have taken not two days, not five, not a week, but a grand total of eleven days to release a terrible quality one. Ah, well… what can I do? Sue me…**

 **Anyway, happy (belated) birthday to an amazing show. Don't forget to check out Mytherina's as well.**

….

Isaac groaned as he sat at the back of Shawn's limousine number five hundred and sixty-nine. Shawn himself was reading a copy of some random Western poem called 'Inferno' by Dante Alighieri. Isaac found it quite pitiful, despite the countless times that Shawn had attempted to implant it in Isaac's brain that it was one of the greatest and most influential pieces of literature in the history of language. Isaac only groaned more- anything even a bit related to high intellectual stature gave him migraines.

Meanwhile, Karl didn't appear to be much better off than him. He was absentmindedly flipping his coin, recording the result in a shabby notebook every once in a while. Timmy however was munching on a hotdog he had in his hand, and seemed quite content with the way his life was rolling out. Cat…Well Cat was staring at Shawn as if she were on cloud nine. Isaac couldn't handle the journey for much longer. The completely dead silence was only punctuated with the perpetual sound of a coin flipping, a page also flipping and a hotdog being munched; as well as Cat occasionally fangirling over Shawn…(Oh…the way he flips the pages is s-so erotic…). Just as he was about to finish writing his will in his head, Mr Glanz finally opened the door.

Isaac thought he was saved for a moment, but then he was greeted with the unbearable flashes of the cameras of the paparazzi. This, when combined with the hundreds of crowds of fangirls, pushed Isaac over the edge. He quickly excused himself- not that anybody even noticed him- and retreated to the opposite side of Shawn's limousine. The retching that ensued was not pretty, and neither was Cat's reaction. She peered her head around the corner and threw a rolling pin into Isaac's skull, screaming at him for 'making unsociable noises when her cute baby Shawn was being rightfully put in the spotlight.'

An hour later, Isaac was in a changing room with Shawn getting ready. He sighed.

"Honestly, how did it actually take one hour just to get through fans? I feel like that guy with a beard from the poem by that Greek geezer. What was his name again? Bart Simpson?"

"Are you talking about Homer? And is the poem you are indicating 'The Odyssey', with Odysseus as the 'guy with the beard'?"

"Yeah…that's the dude. I could have sworn that they told me his poem was called 'The Oyster', though…"

Shawn facepalmed at how abysmal Isaac's literature knowledge was. For someone born with such intelligent genes, the latter sure was nonchalant about his studies. However, it did him no good to waste his time worrying about his lazy acquaintance when he had a concert coming up. He was going to be playing Tchaikovsky's Piano Concerto No.1, one of the greatest classical music pieces of all time, and it was going to be extremely hard. But he had his aspirations, and he was hoping that it would be the greatest performance so far in his (albeit quite short) 'career'.

/

As the group finally drew out of the concert venue, Isaac was relieved. He had never liked classical music that much, and, despite the fact that it was his friend playing, he had been faced with a difficult challenge trying to keep himself awake. But he, the gallant and noble knight Sir Isaac, had steeled himself and managed to slay the dragon called 'Fatigue' (and it was totally not because Cat was glaring at him with creepy red irises through the corner of her eyes every time his posture slackened). Timmy had no such self-control. He, hidden away from Cat's glares, fell asleep before the song had even started. But a rolling-pin was your greatest tool for waking up 'insolent boys', as Cat seemed to know.

As for Carl, Isaac believed that the former never slept at all.

 _éé_ planned, and perhaps even better. The applause (from those still awake) was immense, and Shawn felt as though he had not only hit all the notes almost perfectly, but had also managed to incorporate a musical feeling which was quite appropriate for the song into it. As he had hoped, it had been the kind of performance that could give birth to a great career. He decided, since he was stuck with those four teenagers for a week anyway, to bring them out to dinner.

"Who wants dinner? It is getting rather late."

At the mention of dinner, Timmy, who had fallen asleep again, woke up with a jolt.

"HOTDOGS?!" Even Cat was not bothered to glare at him this time.

/

00:00 pm later in the evening…

The teenagers yawned as they returned to Shawn's mansion. It had been a glorious dinner, with Cat eating dessert, Isaac and Carl eating as much meat as they could find; Shawn himself with some elaborate _foie de gras_ and _éscargots_. And Timmy, well, it could perhaps be left to the imagination.

They did not bother to shower (even Shawn), and got into their separate rooms. Before they all left, they all muttered a single word.

"Goodnight."


End file.
